


Your Majesty

by civillove



Series: seblaine drabble prompts from tumblr [14]
Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-18
Updated: 2014-03-18
Packaged: 2018-01-16 08:28:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1338757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/civillove/pseuds/civillove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>rrrumbleroar prompted: uhhhhh renaissance fair and/or medieval times seblaine pleaseeeeeee</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Majesty

Blaine quickly turns down the hall, trying to avoid his royal advisors. He knows that he has responsibilities, that his father is sick and that it’s not much time before his title goes from Prince to King but…but he’s not  _ready_. Royals don’t get the pleasure of time being on their side, they don’t get the assurance that they can make their own decisions, that he can wait and decide for his own future and assure himself that he’ll even be a good King before he takes the position.

He has all the luxuries in the world except that one.

He just needs some space, some time to breathe—to feel like the fabric of his fine leather pants and the silk of his shirt isn’t choking him; that he can make decisions and has some control over his own life even for just a  _moment_.

He bumps into a few of his mother’s ladies, the girls giggling as they curtsy at him and allow him to pass. He glances up at a doorway and pushes with his shoulder, knocking into someone with a load of flour in his arms.

The tall and lankish boy scrambles as he recognizes who he is, drops the flour, it goes everywhere, blanketing like white snow pillows against their clothes and skin.

The servant coughs, waves his arm, his eyes wide. “Prince Blaine, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know that was you. The royal family doesn’t make many trips to the…kitchen…” He frowns, realizes he’s talking too much out of turn but Blaine shakes his head, takes a step forward.

“It’s alright,” He smiles, warm and inviting. He chuckles softly and tries to ruffle some of the flour out of the other’s hair. “You can call me Blaine. What’s your name?”

The boy looks unsure for a moment before clearing his throat. “Sebastian. Are you…hiding from someone?” He asks as Blaine turns to look towards the kitchen door, closing it quietly.

“When aren’t I?” He mutters, listening for footsteps outside.

Blaine pulls back from the door after he’s convinced he’s safe in the kitchen for a few moments where he can just…breathe easy and relax and actually be himself. He looks behind him to see Sebastian stooping to clean up the mess of flour, the shorter kneeling to help as well.

“You don’t have to Prin—Blaine. I’ve got it.”  Blaine nods, stands, his stomach dropping at the sight of Sebastian’s slow and insistent smile. He clears his throat, feeling the heat pool at the back of his neck.

He looks around the kitchen, eyes falling onto the fire pit and a thin rock. He chews on his lower lip, stomach grumbling at the thought of food. He had skipped breakfast in order to avoid his brother (the bastard son, the one who doesn’t have to worry about ever becoming King. Ever. Who can be free) but now he’s sort of regretting that decision.

“Have you ever cooked before?” Sebastian asks, is lingering close and Blaine swallows at their proximity.

He’s usually the one who makes people nervous…but he’s sort of enjoying the role reversal for a change.

“No,” He says honestly. “Us royals,” He smiles, shrugging his shoulder. “Always getting things handed to us.”

Sebastian hums, nods his head, smoothes his hands out on his pale white apron before picking up an egg. He cracks it on top of the rock that’s sitting near the fire, uses an iron contraption that usually tends fires to pick the flat, thin rock up and hold it over the flames.

“When you see bubbles, flip it.”

Blaine raises his eyebrows. “I’m sorry, what.”

Sebastian chuckles, Blaine’s stomach fluttering at the noise, his eyes zeroing in on how his eyes get a bit greener, the freckles on his cheeks observable from the light of the fire.

“May I, your majesty?” He asks, there’s a light teasing to the end of his voice, to the formality of it all, Sebastian is asking if he can touch Blaine’s hands and he finds himself smiling before nodding.

Sebastian comes up behind him, sets his hands against the shorter’s, Blaine’s hair stands up on end as he feels the other’s breath speckle into his curls. His palms are warm and calm against the outside of his hands, comforting in a way along his knuckles.

“Flip.”

Sebastian encourages him to jerk the rock up so that the egg flips over in the air to land on the other side. He nods his head, chuckles as the egg is hanging off the side a little, dipping into the fire and scorching a brown.

“Not too bad for a first timer, you’ll be cooking your own breakfast before you know it.”

Blaine grins—it’s a small gesture, but for that small amount of time he was in control of something, the egg, his own  _life_. It means more to him than Sebastian could possibly know and he gave that to him.

He hears footsteps come closer and the kitchen door opens to reveal Blaine’s royal advisors. Sebastian straightens considerably upon seeing them, clearing his throat as Blaine sets the kitchen instruments down.

“Prince Blaine, if you please.” They motion outside and he nods, sighing. He glances at Sebastian a moment and pauses in front of him.

“Can I see you again?” He asks quietly, his voice hopeful.

Sebastian grins. “You’re the  _Prince_ , you can see me whenever you want.”

Blaine chuckles, dips his head as he blushes and nods, thumbing away a stray streak of flour on Sebastian’s cheek before leaving.

His chest expands, his lungs open up, he feels like he can breathe again.


End file.
